by Reggi Allder
“He’s a delicate little boy, born premature. When he was a baby I thought I might lose him.” She swallowed hard as she thought of the night he almost died. A shiver ran up her spine and she shook it away.
“Anyway, his room is musty and I thought a fresh coat of paint would help. If you could paint it now. Let me see—” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Uh, the hall bathroom could use new floor tiles. Nothing fancy, just simple “stick-down” tiles. The old tiles are cracked and I almost tripped on them last night. I don’t want Bobby to fall. The sink faucet leaks. It drove me nuts last night, drip, drip, drip. That’s the just the beginning of the list. But I’d like the ones I mentioned repaired first.” She gulped for a breath. She was rambling, talking too fast and telling too much, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Wyatt stood silent, his face devoid of emotion. The muscles of his bare chest flexed and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Why wouldn’t he put on his damn shirt?
“Please take a look at the list and tell me if you have any questions. I guess the general store still has paint. If I can get Granny’s old Volvo station wagon started, I’ll go into town and get the paint while you get the room ready. You’ll have to tell me what to buy to stop the drip in the sink. I don’t have a clue about plumbing. Or paint as far as that goes.” She shrugged and yanked her gaze away from his pecks and up to his eyes.
A bemused expression spread over his face. “You misunderstood.” He drank last of the ice water set the glass on the counter.
“Misunderstood what?”
“I’m not a handyman.”
“But yesterday you said you were Granny’s handyman.”
“I said you could call me that. If I didn’t you weren’t going to get in the damn truck. Everyone was waiting for you at the court house.”
“But you said and I thought…”
“I helped your grandmother because she didn’t have anyone else and she let me use her barn to store my equipment. That’s all.”
“Uh—I’m so embarrassed.”
“Look Amy, I’ll help you get the room ready for your kid and take care of the tile and the drip in the bathroom. And a few other things that need to be done around here. I promised Granny I’d help you. But you have to work too. Deal?”
“Uh, yeah. Deal.”
“Good.” He pulled his cotton shirt over his head and down his chest covering his physique.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
She wanted to say for covering your distracting body, but instead she cleared her throat. “For promising to help me.”
“Besides getting your kid’s room ready, you better line up someone to harvest the apples. Granny usually called Manuel Gordon and his crew. They’re popular and get grabbed up fast. And they may not have time, but they’re the best. His phone number must be around here somewhere. It needs to be done before you sell the farm.”
“Uh—about that. I planned to put the place on the market, but now that I’m here—” Seeing his expression, she hesitated.
“This morning I walked in the apple orchards.” Eager to make him understand, she continued. “I felt the soil between my fingers, smelled the apples still on the trees. I picked one. I’d forgotten what it tastes like right off the branch. When I bit into it juice ran down my chin.” She grinned. “I was a kid again eating fruit for the first time. It was awesome. Suddenly, Granny was there, standing next to me, telling me to keep and run the farm.”
He rolled his eyes and she noted his Amy is-a-crazy-person expression.
She stepped closer. “Wyatt, I’m not insane. I know Granny wasn’t really there. But I’ve seen her walk the orchards so many times, it was as if her essence was next to me telling me this farm is my home. I haven’t felt like I belong anywhere since I left Sierra Creek. Can you understand that?”
Before he could answerer she said, “For the first time in my adult life I’m truly a part of something, the land. And for the first time I understand the meaning of the word “home”.
She crossed her arms and moved just steps from him. “The farm is Bobby’s heritage and I’ll do whatever I can to nurture and protect his legacy.”
“All by yourself?”
“Yeah.”
She noted the skepticism in his features as his eyes narrowed.
“To honor my grandmother, I’m calling the company Granny’s Organic Apples.”
“It’s easy to name a business, but running a farm is hard, dirty work. I see your pale skin and perfectly manicured fingernails. What job did you have in San Francisco?”
She quickly put her hands behind her back.
“Well?”
“I was a bank teller until they closed the branch and replaced it with an ATM machine. Now I want a job that can’t be outsourced or off shored. I have a chance to do something that matters. Give people organic food. So they don’t have to worry about pesticides in the apples and juice they feed their kids. You can’t have any idea what that means to a mother to watch her baby eat and drink and know that the apples are poison free.”
She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. “Okay, so maybe I’ll never get rich—money rich. But if Bobby and I can spend our days taking care of the farm and feeding people poison free food, then no matter what our bank account says, we’re rich.”
“Enough.” His eyes narrowed. “I understand all that warm and fuzzy, save and feed the earth crap. I wish things were that clear cut. People with good ideas and great results. Things aren’t.” He glared at her. “Try and save the planet when you can’t feed your kid, and aren’t able to pay your bills.”
“Who hurt you? How did you get so cynical?”
He flinched. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you and your kid. What do you know about working on a farm?”
“Well— um.” She looked away, grabbed a dish towel, and twisted it in her hands. “I—” She finally met his stare. “Nothing. I don’t know anything about running a farm.”
“Really?” His right eye brow rose as he stared at her. “What would you say if I told you your grandmother wanted you to sell? In fact, told me to get rid of it for you?”
“I wouldn’t believe you. Granny loved this place. She’d never want me to sell.”
“She knew you Amy. Remembered how you high-tailed it off the farm and out of Sierra Creek to live in San Francisco as soon as you were old enough to get away. Granny told me your last words to her were ‘I hate this place and I’m never coming back.’”
He ran his hand over his chin. “You have no idea how much your words hurt her.”
“That’s not fair. I was a teenager. I didn’t understand what Granny had. What I had.”
“How often have you visited since you left? Once a year? At Christmas time? Did you ever ask Granny how the apple business was doing? Or if she needed your help?”
“I—”
“These last few years Granny needed you, wanted your help. But she’d never ask. And you were too busy with your own life to care. You weren’t here for her then. Don’t keep the place out of guilt now. It won’t do her any good. Soothe your guilt some other way.”
“How dare you?” She reeled from the shock of his words. “What do you know anyway?”
“More than you think.”
She winced, recalling her struggle in the last few years to feed her son and pay the rent, especially after her no good husband took the little money she’d been able to save and walked out. All he’d left her to remember him by was the swollen lip he’d given her and the huge bill he’d run-up on her credit card. Even so, Wyatt was right. That was no excuse. She should have helped Granny.
Deep in her own thoughts, she jumped when Wyatt cleared his throat.
“I’m not going to argue with you.” She squared her shoulders and glared at him. “I’m keeping the farm. I’m a quick study. When I make up my mind to do something I do it. No one can stop me.”
She threw the dish towel on the kitchen table. “Wyat
t, I’m going to keep and run Granny’s farm. I will succeed. So help me, or get the hell out of my way.”
CHAPTER 4
Amy regretted her words as soon as she saw Wyatt’s expression harden. It caused a shuddered to run through her. She looked away. Why hadn’t she kept quiet instead of shooting off her big mouth? But then she had a habit of saying more than she should when people riled her. With a quick breath, she glanced at him. He hadn’t moved a muscle and continued to stare at her.
After her grand declaration, he still had control of half of the farm and she needed his help if the place was going to be a successful working farm.
Better change the subject. “I’d still like you to help me get the house ready for my son.” Her voice sounded tentative even to her own ears.
He grunted and then said, “Let me take a look at the sink in the bathroom. Then I’ll go with you to get the plumbing and the paint.”
“Uh good—fine.”
He left the room.
She exhaled and leaned against the kitchen table. She’d told Wyatt she’d succeed because nothing could stop her. But her body trembled with insecurity. If she failed she was risking her future. More importantly, she was gambling with Bobby’s prospects.
***
Later that day, back from the store and in what would be her son’s bedroom, Amy turned slowly and scanned the walls for spots that might need a touch of blue paint. Wyatt had been right about the color. The pale sky blue walls were soothing yet masculine enough for a young boy. Bobby would love them. The navy blue plaid bedding he owned would look terrific in the room.
She’d never painted before, hadn’t even bought a can of paint until today and would have taken forever trying to decide what to buy, matte, egg shell, gloss. It was a foreign language to her, but Wyatt had taken it all in stride.
Only one area left to paint, she rubbed her arm. Yeah, she was sore, but she was almost finished and she was burning calories. She smiled and dipped her roller into the paint and tackled the last wall.
Wyatt was working next door in the bathroom. She recalled how he had, with little effort, found everything they needed in the plumbing department. He’d even chosen black and white self-stick tiles for the room, a perfect choice for the old farm house.
She entered the washroom holding the paint covered roller and stared at the floor. “Wow! I can’t believe the difference the new tiles make. The bathroom’s beautiful.”
“You better clean that roller or the paint will dry on it and you’ll have to buy a new one.”
“Oh.” She carried it to the sink careful not to drop paint on the new floor. After scrubbing the roller, she turned off the water. “The sink doesn’t drip anymore.”
“Easy to fix.”
“Maybe for you, but I couldn’t do it—thanks.” She surveyed the rest of the room. “I’d forgotten the tub is so big. The bathroom in my old apartment was so tiny and it only had room for a small shower. Bobby’s going to love the claw-footed tub.”
“You’ll have to buy him a rubber duck.” He grinned.
Her body warmed when she saw his smile. “You’re right.”
“That should do it.” He slid the final tile into place, stood and brushed off his jeans.
“I can’t thank you enough. It’s gorgeous.”
“No big deal. Clean up and I’ll buy you dinner.”
“I owe you a home cooked meal after all the work you’ve done. But I haven’t gone to the grocery store yet. Will you take a rain check?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Get the paint out of your hair and we’ll go.”
So close to him, she closed her eyes believing he was going to kiss her.
“Meet me downstairs. I’ll give you thirty minutes to clean up.” He stepped away and began to pick up his tools.
Even after all the things he’d said about the way she treated Granny and her angry response, she wanted to go to dinner with him. Did the crush she’d had on him in high school still linger today?
***
What the hell was he thinking asking Amy to dinner? He hadn’t meant to ask her. Sexy, with disheveled hair, and pouty lips, she’d stared at him with her huge hazel eyes and the invitation had just popped out of him.
She was attractive, but that’s not what drew him to her. He’d seen lots of beautiful woman, fashionable ones who were better dressed, more put together than Amy. Many sexy women followed the rodeo circuit looking for a champion cowboy with prize money to spend on a lady and a good time. But they wouldn’t get their hands dirty or care about putting manicured fingers on a paint brush to make a room just right for their kid. Amy had put her son’s needs before her own. The room she was using certainly needed paint more than Bobby’s room did. Still, she ignored that fact and painted her son’s room first. That intrigued him.
He grunted. He had no interest in a relationship. Keeping his promise to Granny and getting back on the rodeo circuit was his goal. He better not lose sight of that fact. Even so, he smiled with satisfaction at the thought of Amy’s son enjoying his newly painted room. Every child should have a place of their own. As a kid, after his parents divorced, he wanted his own space, but never got one. His mother’s living room couch was as close as he got to a room.
***
Twenty minutes later, Amy, dressed in a yellow cotton sundress, was in the living room ready to go when her smart phone rang. She quickly yanked it from her small shoulder bag. “Hello.”
“Mommy, come home,” Bobby sobbed.
“Baby what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I fell down.”
“Oh baby. Are you hurt?”
“Mommy, I want you.”
“Oh honey.”
“Come home.”
“Let me talk to Nan.”
“Okay.” He sniffed.
“Amy?”
“Nan, what happened?” Amy tried to control the panic in her voice. “Is he okay?” She spoke more quietly, and then took a quick breath to slow her breathing and glanced up to see a look of concern tighten Wyatt’s features.
“Bobby’s fine. He tripped over the neighbor’s dog and scraped his chin. I put antibiotic cream and a band aid on it. Don’t worry. He’s okay.”
“Thank God. I was so worried. I should be with him. He sounds so upset. You’re sure he’s all right? I should’ve taken him with me. But I didn’t know what I’d find up here and I had to get the place ready and—”
“Calm down. He just misses you, but he’s good. I think the fall scared him more than anything else. I’d be the first to tell you if he was seriously hurt.”
“I know. I just feel so guilty for not being there. If I had a car I could drive back. I could—”
“Even if you did by the time you got to my place it’d be midnight. Bobby would be asleep.”
“You’re right.” Could she ask Wyatt to drive her to San Francisco? She glanced at him. Even after she told him to get out of her way, he’d spent the day helping her. It’d be pushing it to ask him to do more tonight.
“Look Amy, I’d drive Bobby to the farm now, but my car is being repaired. It’ll be ready in a couple of days. I’ll bring Bobby to the farm as soon as I pick it up from the repair shop? Okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Can I talk to Bobby again?”
“Sure.”
“Mommy.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”He sniffed again.
“Honey, I can’t see you tonight. I need you to be a big boy and stay with Nan. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
Her heart clenched. “You can watch a DVD and then go to bed.”
“Lady and the Tramp?” he asked eagerly.
“And then go right to bed.”
“Love you Mommy.”
“I love you too—big guy.” She remembered not to call him a baby, even though baby came naturally to her lips.
Her heart pounded and her hand shook when she disconn
ected the phone.
“Is your boy okay?” Wyatt frowned.
“Yeah. Just a scratched chin—thank goodness. But it scared me. He’s been sick and he’s so delicate.” She forced an imitation of a smile. “It’s hard to be away from him even for a little while.”
“That’s natural.” Wyatt moved toward her. “You love him.”
“More than life itself.” Her words echoed loud in the quiet farmhouse.
An expression of concern widened Wyatt’s intense eyes. “I bet.”
He seemed to understand. That surprised her.
An awkward silence surrounded them as she considered what to say next. She leaned toward him and could feel warmth radiating from him.
With his large hand he reached out to touch her cheek and she let him. It was rough yet gentle at the same time. Then she noted how truly deep blue his eyes were. Too bad she couldn’t decipher the emotions behind them.
He cleared his throat and stepped back. “You’d probably like to be at home incase Bobby calls again. That way you can relax and you won’t have to worry about hearing your cell in a loud restaurant. We can go to dinner another night?” He paused. “ What say I order ravioli dinners to go and bring them back here?”
His words broke into her thoughts as if he’d read her mind. Did he want to get away from an over-emotional single mother or did he really know what she was going through? She gazed at him, unable to decide the truth.
“Thanks. I’d like that.” Her cell phone rang again. She answered it and when she looked up Wyatt was gone.
CHAPTER 5
Two days had passed since Wyatt brought ravioli dinner back to the farm. They’d eaten in the living room in front a fire burning in the fireplace and passed the time as old friends talking about high school. Conversation had been easy. A feeling of closeness had churned in her. The sense that she’d reconnected with a dear friend. Even though she’d hardly known him in high school because he was a senior when she was a freshman.
The following morning she’d looked out her bedroom window. His truck was gone from the driveway. Now forty-eight hours later, she hadn’t seen or heard from him. Fear that he wasn’t coming back rippled through her, tightening her back muscles.